


Hell is Other People

by Mooncactus



Category: Demon Road Series - Derek Landy, Skulduggery Pleasant - Derek Landy
Genre: Gen, massive demon road spoilers, slight tdotl spoilers
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-09-26
Updated: 2016-03-18
Packaged: 2018-04-23 07:00:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 13,598
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4867535
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mooncactus/pseuds/Mooncactus
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Why are these strange people always Irish?” Amber groaned, covering her face with her hands.  “Are we cursed? Is that it?”<br/>--<br/>Skulduggery and Valkyrie end up flung a little too far from home, much to the chagrin of two people on the run who could really use a break.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> i, still, can not believe i wrote a crossover fic.
> 
> but honestly, there was no way I could resist after reading the book. i had joked around before I started, but upon reading i was struck by how incredibly compatible the personalities of these 4 are (well, even if Milo's a little quiet) and how fun it would to be to explore each relationship combination. there was a scene towards the end of the book - when Shiny's representative shows up in his fancy black car - that i genuinely believed that Val and Skul were going to show up, and I'm not gonna lie ... there's a part of me that's disappointed they didn't.
> 
> Anyway, I hope this silliness is as fun to read as it was to write! forever shout out to my dear friend Apathink, who beta'd this and in general tolerates my endless headcanons and weird Anastasia comparisons.

            Amber Lamont, like anyone who traveled the demon road, had developed a keen weird-shit-o-meter. It was especially necessary for a girl who had a bounty on her head that amounted, essentially, to get out of jail free card from the Shining Demon himself. Plenty of suspicious characters seemed to have realized it would be worth their time to get a hold of the demon girl before anyone else did. And even if she hadn’t seen her parents in weeks, she and Milo had had more than enough close encounters for a lifetime.

            Milo had told her a few days ago that their best hope was the chance the rest of these competing threats would just quietly kill each other off before they got anywhere near them. It was about as reassuring as everything else he said.

            So the weird-shit-o-meter was a necessary pre-caution that helped her avoid overly friendly strangers, or weird cults, or, on one memorable occasion, a possessed McDonalds.

            But the downside of this safety instinct was how often it kicked in a little too late – that too long period of blissful ignorance where she was already getting herself too deep into said weird shit.

            On one particularly memorable occasion, she and Milo were browsing a gas station store, empty save for them. The attendant had heard something outside and ran out with barely a glance at them minutes earlier, and either trusted them enough not to steal or was far beyond caring.

            “I’m getting tic-tacs,” Amber announced. “Any flavor preference?”

            Milo glanced her way for a moment and then returned to leafing through the gas station’s paperback collection as way of response.

            “Orange it is,” she muttered, and added it to her basket. She continued glancing through the candy. She couldn’t believe they still sold _bubble tape_. She was debating between original and blue raspberry when she heard yelling coming from outside.

            She had darted out the open door before Milo had even looked up from his book, and as the cool evening breeze hit her bare legs, she watched as the gas station attendant stood in a parking spot, his face red with anger as he yelled incomprehensibly. At first she thought this was somehow aimed at _her_ , and she ducked behind a gas pump – but he continued yelling, and she raised her eyes and saw a skinny man in a hat and suit and a girl in a black bomber jacket.

            “I didn’t say your wife was ugly,” the skinny man said, speaking over the other man’s angry words. “I just said that there was, you know, the possibility-”

            The gas station attendant suddenly switched languages (and volume), which did not seem to deter the tall man from continuing to talk. Amber watched as the gas station attendant eventually let out a scream of frustration and then stormed off towards a car, and stared wide-eyed as he sped off into the night, tires screeching.

            She dragged her eyes back to the man he had been arguing with like she was watching a tennis match.

            “Well,” said the man, shrugging a shoulder. “That went well.”

            This was when the weird-shit-o-meter finally went off.

            “This is your fault,” muttered the girl next to him. They both spoke with an accent. “Damn it. Now what? We’re in the middle of no where, there’s no one else around-”

            “There’s a car right there,” the man said, pointing to the Charger. “Whoever’s that is has to be close by.”

            Amber took a sharp breath. Someone who managed to chase off someone in the middle of his shift in a rage was not exactly someone she wanted to encounter. Plus, they gave her the creeps. Or maybe that was too mild a phrase – something about the two of them made her feel like she was too close to an open flame.

            Or a volcano.

            She squeezed her eyes shut and then opened them, like it would activate some sort of invisibility, and slipped between two gas pumps while they were distracted.

            Or at least she had thought they were distracted.

            “Excuse me,” came the man’s voice, slippery smooth. “Miss?”

            Amber’s heart slammed in her chest, and she dropped to her knees, trying to let the gas pump cover her.

            “I can still see you,” the man said. “Your hair is rather large.”

            She scooted to the left slightly.

            “Better,” he said. “But you may want to work on your hide and seek skills.”

            She heard an irritated noise, followed by the girl’s voice. “Ignore him. Sorry, do you have five minutes to spare? We’re, er, rather lost.”

            Amber straightened, mouth dry, and saw Milo slip through the entrance of the store, eyes steady on her and gun in hand. She felt a little less heavy, a little less alone.

            “Uh, yeah, of course,” said Amber. She didn’t think she could fake a smile, so she just tried to look bored and haughty instead. She didn’t think it was working.

            “Great,” the girl said, and the two strode towards the entrance. As they approached, Amber was able to fully appreciate how tall they both were – the girl was close to six feet, and the man was well over that. He was thirty something, with a nice hat at a jaunty angle and an even nicer suit, and _incredibly_ thin. He looked like a strange broad-shouldered grasshopper.

            But it was the girl who really caught her attention. As she approached, Amber could appreciate how _stunning_ she was – she was maybe about eighteen or nineteen, with lovely big expressive eyes and clear skin. Her long dark hair trailed behind her, loose and straight. She looked like a superhero, with an overwhelming aura of confidence and power. She was almost difficult to look at – an overpowering reminder of everything Amber wanted to be but wasn’t. (Or at least everything she wasn’t in this skin.)

            “Hi,” the girl said gently, making eye contact, and Amber felt herself blush. “Right. First question. Where are we, exactly?”

            Amber blinked. “Um. I think we’re Washington? I don’t know the town, maybe my-” she cut herself off, suddenly. She had been about to say that Milo might know – he had an apt for remembering these things - when she realized that if they were, in fact, demons or demon hunters or some other threat, she probably didn’t want to give that away. “… I don’t know,” she reiterated, feeling like an idiot.

            “Ah,” said the man. “Wonderful. Excellent.”

            “Follow up question,” the girl said, ignoring him again. “Have you, uh, seen any other …” she paused, in thought. “ _Strange_ characters around?”

            “Strange … how?” Amber asked.

            “Strange like him,” she said, pointing at the man next to her.

            “Why not strange like _you_?” the man said, sounding offended.

            “I’m not strange.” The girl crossed her arms. “I’m a perfectly normal young lady.”

            Amber noticed for the first time how odd her jacket was – like it was made of several different cuts of fabric stitched together – all the same bottomless pit black, but worn and damaged in different ways, like several outfits fashioned together.

            The tall man made a face and was probably going to counter with some other witty comeback, but Amber cut in before he could.

            “Um. No offense, but you’re _both_ a little strange. I don’t meet a lot of people from … not the US? Where are you from, exactly? Scotland?”

            “We’re from Ireland,” said the girl, and Amber paled.

            “What,” said the man flatly. “Do you not like the Irish?”

            “No, I – uh-”

            “I thought you were all supposed to be accepting. What if my partner and I had been new immigrants? Do you know how difficult things were for Irish immigrants in America?”

            “Yes?” Amber answered, vaguely remembering something about potatoes.

            “And despite this – despite knowledge of our people’s struggle, you mock us. I am hurt. I am, quite frankly, deeply offended. Does this gas station have a Yelp page? Do _you_ have a Yelp page? Because I assure you, my review will be scathing.”

            “I’m… sorry?” Amber, overwhelmed by hearing more words in this reply than she probably heard in the entire last week, took a step back, and then heard the familiar sound of cowboy boots on pavement.

            Milo had finally made himself known.

            She glanced at him, both reassured by his appearance and made anxious by the fact that the situation had grown to a point where he had felt his presence was needed.

            She turned back to the strange Ir… what was the word? There wasn’t any singular person word equivalent to ‘American’, was there? Just Irish. Strange Irish people? That worked. Anyway.

            The Irish girl was looking at Milo. Not looking – _ogling_. Like, head to toe ogling.

            Something about it made Amber feel extremely uncomfortable.

            “You have a gun,” the girl said, tilting her head.

            “I do,” Milo said. “Is that a problem?”

            “The opposite, actually,” the girl murmured, and Amber thought the expression on the tall man’s face matched her own perfectly. “Not that you’ll have to shoot anyone, hopefully. As long as this one keeps his mouth shut.”

            “I,” said the man, and then his friend slapped a hand over his mouth without even glancing in his direction.

            “Figured as much,” she said, and then quickly replaced her annoyed expression with a brilliant smile. “Let’s start this over. I’m Valkyrie Cain, and this is Skulduggery Pleasant. We are, as you have probably guessed by now, not from around here. We would love to get out of your hair as soon as possible, but, uh, we don’t have a car, and _someone_ has managed to offend all possible resources-”

            Amber heard a muffled response from behind Valkyrie’s hand.

            “No, you may not,” said Valkyrie.

            Another muffled response.

            “Fine,” she said, sighing. “But be nice.” She dropped her arm. “Thank you for not licking my hand.”

            “No need to thank me,” he said, “as _most_ people don’t feel the urge to lick other people’s hands.”

            “Your gloves do not taste very good,” was all Valkyrie said in response, and Amber noticed for the first time that the man was wearing black leather gloves.

            Skulduggery turned to Milo and Amber, his expression and posture suddenly the picture of politeness. “If we could get a ride to the nearest town, your hospitality would be greatly appreciated.”

            Amber glanced back at Milo.

            He did not look very hospitable.

            Skulduggery looked like he had just remembered something. “Ah,” he said, and then patted his suit jacket like he was looking for something. “I _also_ have a gun.”

            Valkyrie glowered at him.

            “I told you to be nice.”

            “How are guns not nice? Guns are very nice.”

            “I swear to God,” she muttered, and then brightened again. “So! Ride? Yes, no?”

            Amber and Milo looked for each other for a long moment. She didn’t feel like they had much of a choice.

            “Er,” Amber said. “Yeah. No worries.”

            Milo picked up a plastic shopping bag from the floor and wordlessly handed it to Amber, stomping off to go start the Charger.She winced, already sensing the silent disapproval and disappointment in the form of a bad mood that could last for _days_.

            Valkyrie, unperturbed, peered over her shoulder. “Ooh,” she said. “Orange tic tacs.”

* * *

            Amber decided Skulduggery should probably take shotgun, seeing as he was made up of about eighty percent leg. Milo shot her a look, which she ignored, and she slid into the back and Valkyrie squished in next to her. She smelt nice, too, like citrus and the air before a thunderstorm.

            “I’m Amber, by the way,” she said, watching as Skulduggery tried to keep his hat on and then gave up, instead letting it balance on his knee. His hair was a mousy color, and thin.

            “Nice to meet you, Amber,” Valkyrie said. “This is a cool car,” she said, ducking her head around the seat to look at Milo.

            “Thank you,” Milo said.

            Skulduggery muttered something that Amber didn’t catch. She assumed it was not a compliment.

            “So,” Valkyrie said, as they made their way onto the main road. “Your friend - tall dark and mute. What’s his name?”

            Amber waited for Skulduggery to start blabbering before she answered. “His name’s Milo.”

            Valkyrie didn’t look impressed. Amber felt weirdly defensive.

            “Milo _Sebastian_ ,” she added.

            “Oh,” Valkyrie said. “Yeah, that’s much better.”

            Amber stared. It wasn’t – well, she had certainly seen a lot of women … appreciate Milo over the past couple months, but … Valkyrie was considerably younger than they had been. … Or at least she thought she was.

            “How old are you?” Amber asked.

            Valkyrie smiled. “How old do you think I am?”

            “Um. Eighteen?”

            “Let’s go with that, then. What about you?”

            “… Sixteen,” said Amber, amazed that this encounter had managed to get even weirder.

            “Oh, my sister’s a little younger than you.”

            “You have a sister? What’s she like?”

            Valkyrie laughed. “Honestly? She’s a terror. She’s in like, four sports and eight clubs and is very determined to show how much better she is at school then I ever was. How about you? Got any sisters?”

            “No,” she said automatically. “Or. … Yeah. She died before I was born,” she said, and the smile slipped from Valkyrie’s pretty face.

            “Oh,” Valkyrie said. “That … sucks.”

            “Yeah.” Amber chewed on her lip, falling silent.

            “Valkyrie,” Skulduggery said, taking advantage of the lull in conversation. “The Bentley is from 1955, correct?”

            “Yesss…?” Valkyrie said slowly, expression wary.

            “And yet we want for nothing. Climate control, power locks, satellite navigation … This car is a 1970 model, and yet Mr. Sebastian here says the radio won’t even turn on.”

            “You don’t even like listening to the radio,” Valkyrie said, eyes narrow.

            “Most importantly,” Skulduggery continued, as if Valkyrie hadn’t spoken. “Where are your seatbelts? Nowhere to be seen, you say? You and young Amber here could be thrown through a window. Tragic. Heartbreaking, even. A disaster easily preventable.”

            “If you know a mechanic that could successfully alter this car,” Milo said, cool and collected as usual, “I’m all ears.”

            “See,” Valkyrie said, cutting in. “People can be happy with their cars without constantly upgrading them. Plus, you have to admit that this car looks a lot more intimidating than the Bentley does.”

            Skulduggery didn’t have a reply to that.

            “He’s sulking,” Valkyrie explained to Amber, as if it wasn’t obvious from how he turned and stared at the window sullenly. Valkyrie put her hand on the back of Milo’s seat. “Your car is fine,” she said. “Don’t take any of this to heart.”

            “I’ll try to console myself,” Milo said, and Amber mentally marked down joke number three.

            The car suddenly braked hard, and Valkyrie threw out an arm to keep Amber from slamming face first into the back of Milo’s seat. 

            “We’re here,” Milo said, and she heard the click of the doors unlocking. “Get out.”

            Amber made a face. “ _Milo_.”

            “ _Please_ get out,” he amended.

            Skulduggery recovered his hat from beneath the glove compartment and shot Milo an icy look. He slipped out without another word and began walking to the entrance of the inn Milo had parked out in front of.

            Valkyrie gave them an apologetic smile. “It was a pleasure meeting both of you,” she said, and hopped out of the car.

            Amber watched as the smile melted off Valkyrie’s face as soon as she rejoined Skulduggery. They immediately started bickering. Amber rubbed her temple. Listening to them felt like a Ping-Pong match inside her brain.

            She and Milo watched them for a while in silence.

            “They’re weird,” she said, eventually.

            “Yes.”

            “Weird names too,” she added.

            “Yes.”

            “They didn’t try to kill us, at least.”

            “No,” Milo agreed.

            “And yet,” Amber said, watching as a crowd started to form (subtly, of course, as only gossipy tourists can) “I don’t feel very assured.”

            Milo let out a drawn out sigh, and she knew he understood without her having to say another word.

            “Why are these strange people always Irish?” Amber groaned, covering her face with her hands.  “Are we cursed? Is that it?”

            “Possibly,” Milo said, opening the door and pushing the driver’s seat forward so she could get out. He leaned against the Charger while Amber got her bags from the trunk. She peered around the car to stare at him while he did his cool lean-y thing.

            Not for the first time, Amber wondered what people saw in him. Sure, he was tall and thin and – okay, fine, super hot, but he had a cloud of doom and gloom following him that rivaled Eeyore’s.

            Milo caught her staring, and his frown deepened. She stared back. He raised an eyebrow. She set her jaw.

            “You’re very good at staring contests,” she said after a few moments, eyes itchy.

            “Weirdo,” said Milo, taking a bag from her and slinging it over his shoulder.

            Amber couldn’t argue with that.

* * *

             It _was_ a really nice inn, at least. Cozy, with a pretty fireplace and armchairs in the lobby that looked comfy enough to fall asleep in.

            Valkyrie and Skulduggery stood right in the heart of the lobby, standing on a large circular rug. Milo was checking in at the desk, and she wondered what she was supposed to do. Talk to them? Try to figure out what was going on? Or just avoid them and watch unnoticed and unintimidated from the balcony?

            The last option seemed the least likely to get her cornered into another bizarre conversation, but being sneaky had never been her forte.

            Amber noticed for the first time the object strapped to Valkyrie’s back – like an extra long lacrosse stick, or a … holy shit, was it a sword? Could she _get_ any more badass?

            Like she was aware she was being watched, Valkyrie turned to face her. “Amber!” she said. “What a … surprise?”

            “We figured we should stop in for the night. If you two don’t, er, mind?”

            “Of course not,” she said. “Why would it be? " _This inn ain’t big enough for the four of us_ ,” she joked, in what Amber figured was an attempt at an American accent.

            “That was terrible,” said Skulduggery, without turning around.

            “Can you do any better?”

            “Yes.”

            “Oh, yeah? Let’s hear it.”

            “I don’t need to prove myself to you,” he said, “as I think we already know that I’m better than you at everything.”

            Valkyrie made an outraged noise, and grabbed Skulduggery’s sleeve.

            He turned, and Amber saw … that it was not Skulduggery.

            “What?” she said, aloud, interrupting them before they could start up again. “What happened to your – who are you?”

            “Skulduggery Pleasant,” he said, raising an eyebrow. “We were introduced. Do you have short term memory loss?”

            But it _wasn’t._ Skulduggery’s hair was lighter, and was paler, and he – to be blunt – was less attractive as this man standing before. But he spoke with his voice, and wore his clothes and Valkyrie still stood next to him like they were those best friend necklaces that fit together perfectly.

            “I … never mind,” Amber said, feeling her headache increasing. “I guess I was just … confused.”

            “Happens to the best of us,” said Skulduggery, cheerfully. “I’m going to look around.”

            “Don’t get lost.”

            “I’ll try not to.”

            He walked around them, his fingertips brushing Valkyrie’s waist just so, and then disappeared down a warmly lit hallway.

            Something about the gesture made Amber feel like she was intruding on something, but it was like Valkyrie didn’t even notice.

            “Um,” she said. “Skulduggery does look different though, right? I’m not crazy?”

            “Hmm? Yeah,” Valkyrie said, smoothing down rug tassels with the toe of her boot. “Sure.”

            Amber felt like her frown was going to sink permanently into her face. “I’m serious. He’s like … it’s like he has an entirely different face. What’s happening?”

            Valkyrie looked back up at her, and seemed to be considering something. After a while, she said, “Don’t stress about it. I told you, he’s weird.”

            Amber tried not to let out a frustrated noise or swear. It seemed like this was going to be the best answer she’d get. It seemed like vague half answers and jokes were going to be the _only_ answers she’d get.

Valkyrie was ready to change the subject. “Jesus, this inn is strange. Why do they have a calendar from 2015?”

            Amber’s brow furrowed. “What do you mean?”

            “Look,” Valkyrie said, pointing at the wall behind the check in desk. “2015-2016. Weird.”

            Amber stared at her, trying to gauge if she was kidding. “Valkyrie,” she said, after a long, long moment. “It _is_ 2015.”

            Valkyrie grinned, and then when Amber didn’t grin back, looked at the calendar again, looked at the people in the lobby, and her expression grew increasingly concerned.

            “Fuck,” Valkyrie said, her voice low, “oh, _fuck.”_

* * *

             “Skulduggery,” Valkyrie called, speed walking down the hall. “ _Skulduggery_!”

            Amber was having trouble keeping up with her pace. What was apparently a nice brisk walk for Valkyrie was practically a run for Amber. And she _hated_ running. She wished Milo were here. She wished Milo were _carrying_ her.

            They found him by the elevators, and Amber expected him to crack another joke – but he just took one look at Valkyrie’s face and his expression grew serious.

            “What happened?” he said, putting a hand on her shoulder.

            “Ask Amber what year it is,” Valkyrie said, swallowing.

            He looked down at her, and Amber squirmed under the intensity of his gaze.

            “Um,” Amber said. “It’s … 2015. May 2015. Is that … is that a problem?”

            Skulduggery looked at Valkyrie, and they seemed to be having some sort of mental conversation. Maybe they _could_ read each other’s minds; Amber wouldn’t doubt anything at this point.

            “We,” he said, at last, “are very far from home.”

            “Alice is never going to forgive me if I don’t come back,” Valkyrie groaned. “She will _kill me.”_

            “Look on the bright side,” Skulduggery said, rubbing her arm consolingly. “If you don’t come back she _can’t_ kill you.”

            Valkyrie glared at him. “Don’t you care that you might never see your precious Bentley again?”

            “Of course,” he said. “But I have what I care about most here with me.”

            Valkyrie’s expression softened. “Do you really mean that?”

            “Of course,” he said, and patted the crown of his hat, and the glare popped right back on Valkyrie’s face.

            Amber’s headache was threatening to crack open her skull. “Um,” she said, taking a step back, “I’m really sorry that you guys are … lost? But, I don’t think there’s anything I can do to help, so…”

            They spun around to face her, as if they had forgotten she was there.

            “Actually,” Valkyrie started.

            “You might be of some help-” Skulduggery said.

            “And we’d _really_ appreciate it-”

            Amber took another step back. Something about them was putting her on edge, something that felt familiar. As her head throbbed she could feel her skin tingling, buzzing with the temptation. Shift. Get them to leave you alone for good. _Shift._

Something must have shown on her face, because Valkyrie and Skulduggery were frowning now, their stances shifting slightly, defensive, even, and Skulduggery’s hand was moving to where Amber remembered he kept his gun….

            She was being paranoid, she thought, she shouldn’t shift here, she thought, but – but--

            “Amber,” said Milo, and she spun to face him. He looked sad. And mad. Worried, her brain provided, a second too late. It was always a weird expression on him.

            He glanced her over, saw she wasn’t shot or eaten or hurt in any way, and relaxed slightly. “Jesus,” he said, his hand over his heart. “Never do that again.”         

            “Sorry,” she said, walking closer to him. “I was … following her.”

            “Following her?”

            “I was suspicious,” she added, in a whisper. He raised an eyebrow, skeptical, and she flushed.

            “ _Whatever_ reason you followed her,” he said, “let me know next time. You have to stop running off like that, Amber. I had no idea what had happened to you, or where you went…”

            She tried to think of some sort of snappy come back, something that Valkyrie would say, and found herself coming up short. She had been scared. Really scared. “You’re right,” she said, swallowing. “It was stupid.”

            He held up a hand, stopping her from apologizing farther. “You’re not dead. That’s all that matters.”

            Which was about as affectionate as Milo Sebastian got. She turned away from him, and realized that Valkyrie and Skulduggery had disappeared into the elevators while they were talking.

            “Who are they?” Milo asked, looking at the place they had seen them last.

            “I have no idea,” Amber said, shaking her head.

            “Do you think they’re part of all of this?”

            “Like they’re on the demon road?” Amber asked. He made a face at the name. “No,” she continued. “I think they really aren’t from around here. I don’t think belong here _at all_.”

            Milo looked down at the carpet, deep in thought, his expression serious.

            “Also,” Amber said, double-checking her pockets, “she stole my tic-tacs.”


	2. Chapter 2

          Amber wasn't quite feeling up to sleeping when she finally retired to her room. She had changed into pajama pants she had gotten from Walmart, and a too big _In the Dark Places_ shirt. It was the closest thing she had to a security blanket – she had left her books and the Balthazar pillow she had gotten off at Etsy behind at home. She wondered if they were still there, sitting in her room, or had already been sent off to a landfill. She had showered, brushed her teeth, even flossed – but her mind hadn’t settled and her body was still tense, skin still tingling with the urge to shift.

            She turned, catching her reflection in the bathroom mirror, and closed her eyes and let the change come.

            When she opened them again, the shirt was practically falling off of her, and she was stronger and prettier and overall _better_.

            God, if only she could do this all the time. She couldn’t wait until Halloween (if she hadn't been served up to the Shining Demon by then) so she could stroll around like this, perfect and terrifying. Maybe she should just start hanging around convention centers, she thought, with a snort. Nothing out of the ordinary there.

            _So_ much better. Everyone thought it. Most people _said_ it. Except Milo, but Milo loved a car more than he loved any human being, so why did his opinion matter, anyway?

           She tilted her head, tried a smirk like the one Valkyrie wore, and pushed her hair to the side like she did, and imagined what it was like to be her, to feel like this _all_ the time. To be as great as Valkyrie Cain.

            Amber frowned. Actually, who the hell said she wasn’t _greater?_ Valkyrie Cain didn’t have horns that made her terrifying and beautiful, or claws that could cut someone to ribbons _. Valkyrie Cain, eat your heart out_ , she thought, and then Amber remembered that she _literally_ ate someone’s heart out.

            She felt a knot of queasiness, and she reached out and touched her reflection. She had thought her eyes were the same in either form, but now she could see it wasn’t the case – they were more yellow, the pupils long and cat like, and she looked dangerous, less human.

            Valkyrie Cain, she could assume, had never eaten anyone.

            She opened her mouth, seeing her sharp canines, remembering the feeling of biting down and blood gushing, how it ran down her chin -

            Valkyrie Cain, she could assume, didn’t look in the mirror and see only a monster with no humanity.

            And with that thought she was suddenly back to her old fleshy self, in the shirt that was a size XXL but still _almost_ fit, and she sat down hard on the floor and breathed hard in a desperate attempt not to cry.

            As a human, as herself, she hadn’t hurt anyone, hadn’t killed anyone, hadn’t taken someone’s lungs and eaten them. But it was only in this form that she felt the guilt, the weight of it at all. It was too much for her to bear – too much for anyone to bear. For the millionth time, she wished Imelda was still alive – the only person who knew how it felt.

            She wished a lot of people were alive and here with her. Even Glen. Sometimes, especially Glen.

            Milo was all she had left, and she knew even that was going to come to an end sooner rather than later. The endless supply of money from Imelda wasn’t looking so endless anymore, and she knew once the money was gone, Milo would be too. She didn’t expect him to stay, could never ask him to do that for her. He had his own life, his own needs – and whatever plans he had for all that money – and she couldn’t take him from it. Couldn’t ever expect him to give up or lose his life for her. She would just have to get used to being alone.

            She shook her head slowly, a few rogue curls loosening from her ponytail. Thoughts like that only led to more crying, so she forced herself to stand and tuck her room key into her pocket. The door was heavy, with one of those long narrow doorknobs, and she had to fight it so it didn’t slam shut behind her and wake the whole floor.  She took a few steps and stopped, standing in front of Milo’s door.

            She hesitated, and then knocked lightly  on the door. No answer. She gave it a minute, tried it again, and when that too was unsuccessful, lowered her hand. She was being overly dependent and he was probably showering or something and she should just scamper off because she didn't even know what to say – and of course, as soon as she thought that the door swung open.

            Milo poked his head out, his hair mussed and sticking up in odd places, his eyes bleary. She gave him a little wave, surprised.

            “I, uh,” she said. “I was going to walk around. I felt like you … I didn’t want to run off without telling you again?”

            He nodded. The side of his face had little red imprints from a pillow.

            Something about Milo sleeping in like, an actual bed, was both bizarre and reassuring. “Sorry for bothering you,” she said, still feeling both silly and childish, and he shook his head.

            “No,” he said, squinting. “Glad you told me. Be careful.”

            She nodded. He gave her a curt nod in return and started to close the door.

            “One sec,” she said, “you’ve got some drool, right …” she tapped the corner of her mouth, and he straightened, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. She beamed, he glared at her, and with that she left him and walked towards the staircase feeling surprisingly light.

            The inn had a grand staircase - well, grand was probably too strong of a word. A nice staircase? A pretty good staircase? Anyway, it was a staircase, carpeted and twisty turny, and even if it wasn’t as massive as the ones in movies it still made Amber feel a little like a princess.

            She was a little less than halfway down when she heard voices coming from the lobby – voices with a very particular accent. Amber froze in fear, clutching the staircase railing, before realizing that this was her chance to eavesdrop sneakily. She kept her head low, slinking down the staircase on bare feet until she could hear them a little better and see them in the dim light.

            They were sitting in front of the fireplace, their two armchairs facing each other and almost touching, barely visible in the low-lit firelight. Skulduggery was facing away from Amber, so all she could see clearly was his hat – it was strange, but she couldn’t even make out the outline of his nose or lips. Valkyrie’s socked feet rested on his chair in the gap between his thigh and the armrest. The rest of the inn was pitch-black darkness – including Amber. She lowered herself down, her legs hanging off the side, and leaned against the railing in an effort to pick up the most of the conversation.

            “I don’t know,” Valkyrie was saying. “The shunter must be here somewhere, but we’re going to have to track him down before he goes back or we’re stuck here forever.”

            “China might be able to get someone,” Skulduggery said.

            “But it could take years. We’ve never been shunted like this before, I don’t even know if this still _counts_ as a shunt--”

            “We’ll get back home,” Skulduggery said. “I promise.”

            Amber couldn’t tell if they were holding hands, but she thought it was an appropriate moment for that. There was a scene in one of the later _Dark Places_ book – the show hadn’t gotten to it yet – where Balth and Tempest held hands in the forest and it was so beautiful and –

            Amber realized she had managed to miss a swatch of conversation while zoning out.

            “--and Amber’s odd, too,” Valkyrie said, and Amber straightened. “When we were by the elevators – there was something in her face, or maybe just her eyes – it was like she …” she trailed off.

            “Like she had some sort of trump card that she knew could beat us if we got into a fight,” he said. “She doesn’t _want_ to fight us, but if she did, she thinks she could win.”

            Valkyrie sat up, back straight against the chair.

            “I don’t like that. She seems like a good kid, but …”

            “Are you worried about what she’s hiding?”

            Valkyrie laughed. “Who, me? Nah. I can handle it.”

            “And what makes you so sure of that?"

            She slipped off her jacket, and Amber’s eyes widened to the size of watermelons.

            “Reason A,” she said, flexing one arm, and then flexed the other. “Reason B.”

            “Fair enough,” said Skulduggery. “What about Milo?”

            “Ohhh,” Valkyrie said dropping back down. Amber noticed she had a very prominent tattoo. “He is _so_ hot.”

            “That … is not what I meant.”

            “Have you seen his hair? How it does that,” she made a gesture with her hands at the crown of her head, “thing? And his _jawline!_ ”

            “He wears cowboy boots,” Skulduggery said, sounding unhappy.

            “He makes them work,” Valkyrie responded immediately.

            “Isn’t he a little … isn’t he a bit too old for you?”

            “Nope,” Valkyrie said immediately, and Skulduggery didn’t say anything for a few moments. Amber assumed he was sulking again.

            “Well,” he said at last. “He’s some kind of supernatural serial killer, if that’s a deal breaker.”

            Amber felt her blood run cold.

            Valkyrie sat up. “He’s a _what?_ How do you know?”

            “To start with, something about his car seemed suspicious-”

            Valkyrie let out a snort, but Skulduggery waved her off. “There was … something to it, something ...more. I borrowed a phone, did some research – apparently there’s a urban legend about something called the Ghost of the Highway – that exact model, that exact car – that would run people off the road. Killed quite a few people. And some of them tried to escape, run off on foot, and the Ghost would run them over.”

            “What a horrible way to die,” Valkyrie said, softly.

           They let that soak in for a minute while Amber struggled to catch up. How did they figure it out so soon? And with no apprehension whatsoever? She had assumed they weren't a part of the demon road, but... who else would believe a story like that so easily?

            “What about Amber?” Valkyrie asked. “Do you really think a killer would take in a sweet girl like her under his wing?”

            They were silent for a moment.

            “… Right,” she said.

            “Though I would not describe you as sweet.”

            She made an offended noise. “I was very sweet! I am _still_ very sweet.”

            “Your feet smell terrible.”

            She gawked at him. “Since when can you smell?”

            “I always could. I never told you seeing as I was told that if you have nothing nice to say you shouldn’t say anything at all.”

            “When have you _ever_ maintained that policy?”

            “It only applies to smells.”

            Valkyrie shifted her position and stuck her foot in his face.

            Amber pulled her legs up and scooted back, ignoring the laughter and outraged noises coming from below. They knew. They knew who Milo was, and they were starting to figure out who Amber was, too. And on top of that, Skulduggery was a killer - and she wasn’t so naïve to not realize Valkyrie must be as well. Maybe _that_ was why they investigated Milo's past - they didn't want anyone moving in on their turf.

            She felt so stupid, for giving them a ride, for not getting the hell out of there as soon as she got a bad feeling and hoped she hadn’t just signed her and Milo’s death warrant. If they died at the hands of some murderous weirdos who weren’t even involved with any demon, she would never forgive herself.

            She heard them talking again, and she focused, deciding that it was best to have enough information as possible before sneaking away and informing Milo.

            “So what are we going to do?” Valkyrie asked. “Are we going to have to take them out, or…?”

            Skulduggery looked past her, looked up, and for the first time Amber could see his face. It was, once again, completely different. But his eyes were piercing. He looked directly at her, and she forced herself to stay still, remembering that there was no way he could see her in the pitch black darkness. Her heart was pounding so hard she wondered if he might _hear_ her instead.

            “Hello, Amber,” he said, and she felt a fear run through her that made her finally – finally – realize who they reminded her of.

            “H-hello,” she said, standing.

            “Are you sleeping well?”

            “Yeah,” she said, swallowing hard. “Just wanted to stretch my legs.”

            He nodded at her. “Goodnight,” he said, and Valkyrie added a soft “goodnight” as well.

            “G-goodnight,” Amber said, and step-by-step forced her shaking legs back up the stairs. Valkyrie and Skulduggery didn’t say another word as she ascended, and as soon as she reached the top, she ran to Milo’s door and rammed her fist against it.

            Milo answered immediately, looking a bit more awake than he had earlier. He wore a loose t-shirt and his own set of Walmart pajama pants.

            She didn’t say anything yet, just slipped in through the door and shut it behind her, still shaking. He blinked at her, waiting for an explanation.

            She sucked in a deep breath. “Valkyrie and Skulduggery – they know who you are and they’re suspicious of both of us and they know about the Ghost of the Highway thing and think we’re a threat and Skulduggery’s a _killer_ and I think Valkyrie is too-“

            “Slow down,” Milo said. “What happened?”

            She took another breath – long and slow this time - and explained in detail the conversation she overheard, and watched as the concern grew on his face.

            “I don't know for sure," she said, meeting his eye. "Maybe I'm overreacting, and they're not actually dangerous, but..."

            "But?"

            She swallowed. “It’s just … they … they remind me of my parents.”

            His expression grew sympathetic – more caring than she was used to from him– and it helped the words to form, helped her to elaborate her point.

            "I can already just _tell_ they care about each other more than anything else. Especially when they’re so far from home. And I have a feeling – just like with Bill and Betty – if it came to it, they would do anything to keep the other safe. _Anything._ ”

            He nodded. “I trust your judgment, then. We’ll leave in a couple minutes.”

            “No,” Amber said. “We leave _now_. I didn’t unpack any of my bags, we'll be gone in thirty seconds.”

            Milo looked at her apologetically. “No, we can’t. I don’t … I don’t have my contacts in.”

            She stared at him in disbelief. “You wear _contacts?_ ” She tried to imagine him with glasses. (Hotter. Damn it.)

            “The Charger helps a little with my vision,” he explained, “but if we had to get out I wouldn’t be able to shoot something ten feet in front of me.”

            Amber pressed her hands against her face, wondering how the hell Imelda had managed to hire one of the most useless bodyguards in existence. “Okay. Fine. Whatever. Two minutes and then we’re out of here.”

            He nodded, and she sprinted out the door and back into her room. She switched her PJ pants for jeans and pulled a zip up hoodie on over her shirt. She swung a bag over each shoulder, and heard a knock at the door.

            She opened the door to a fully dressed Milo ( _contacts_ – she couldn’t believe she never noticed) and she sprinted over to the staircase, leaning over the railing. She peered downstairs, squinting in the low light. Valkyrie and Skulduggery were nowhere to be seen. She nodded at Milo and they walked down carefully, out the lobby, and through the front door.

            It was pouring with rain outside, and Amber used a hand to flip her hood up over her head. The Charger was right out front and then they could be off and away and –

            Valkyrie and Skulduggery were standing in front of the car, barely illuminated by the streetlights.

            Amber swore, and looked at Milo, hoping he had some sort of special way of getting to the car. He stared back, looking just as clueless and she groaned. It seemed like they were stuck there.

            They walked towards the car, and Amber noticed that the rain was somehow falling everywhere except on Skulduggery and Valkyrie. They stood there, perfectly dry, just patiently waiting for them to approach.

            “Making a quick get away?” Skulduggery asked, just as Valkyrie quipped “Leaving so soon?”

            There was an awkward pause.

            “We should have coordinated that better,” said Valkyrie, and Skulduggery nodded.

            “Please ignore that,” he said. “We are generally much better at this sort of thing.”

            “And what would that be?” Milo said, voice level.

            Skulduggery – and Amber couldn’t believe anything surprised her at this point, but somehow this actually did – pulled a detective badge out of his suit jacket.

            “Milo Sebastian,” Skulduggery said, sounding like he did this kind of spiel at least once a week, “you are under arrest for acting incredibly suspicious and probably being some kind of weird supernatural serial killer.”

            Amber and Milo stared at each other in disbelief.

            When they provided no other response, Valkyrie and Skulduggery exchanged looks as well.

            “This is where you try to resist arrest,” Skulduggery explained. “Or at least make some sort of “you meddling kids” comment while being handcuffed.”

            Amber and Milo continued staring at each other like they were both waiting for the other to reveal they were being Punk'd.

            Skulduggery turned to his partner. “I did not see this going like this.”

            Valkyrie shrugged. "I did say we should have started with the handcuffs."

            Amber was the first to regain her composure. “Wait. You two are _cops?”_

“Of a sort,” Skulduggery answered.

            “You’re here to _arrest us?_ ”

            “Well,” said Valkyrie. “Not exactly. Just Milo here. I mean, we could arrest you too, if you want.”

            Amber raised her hands in the air, tried to think of a response, and then just dragged them down her face instead.

            Milo took a step forward, gun in hand, but not in a threatening way – more of a reminder that he would not fold over for anyone. “There’s no need to arrest anyone. This is a waste of your time and ours.”

            “I’m willing to giving it a couple minutes at least.” Skulduggery said, taking a step forward, and somehow the gap in the rain _followed_ him. Valkyrie yelped as she was suddenly soaked in the downpour.

            “Sorry,” he said, and she scowled.

            Amber felt like she was starting to get a better idea of what exactly they were up against.  It was not a pleasant sensation. “We’re – we can’t stick around any place too long. It’s not that we’re hurting people, it’s just – people want to hurt _us._ We have to go.”

            “Not until you tell us what exactly is going on with you two,” Valkyrie responded, pushing her wet hair out of her face. “We specialize in weird stuff, and you two -  you two are so weird I don’t even know where to _begin_. So talk.”

            Amber opened her mouth, ready to say something or just maybe make another frustrated noise at this _ridiculousness_ – when she spotted a car through the rain, making its way down the main road to the entrance to the inn.

            Her eyes widened. “Milo?” she said, her voice very small. “That’s – that’s Kirsty’s car.”

            He followed her gaze, and swore under his breath. Amber felt herself pale.

            Valkyrie and Skulduggery didn’t even look in the direction of the car, like that would ruin their dumb ass cop routine.

            “We’re not moving,” said Valkyrie, to emphasize this, and Amber groaned.

            “We do not have time for this! We _literally_ do not have time for this! Just let us leave, _please_.”

            “And what are you going to do, Amber?” Skulduggery said, sounding genuinely curious.

            “Please,” Amber said again, meeting Valkyrie’s eye.

            She shook her head. “Not until I know what the hell is going on.”

            Amber straightened, and exhaled loudly through her mouth. “I tried,” she said, pulling off her hoodie with one zip and throwing it behind her at Milo, “to be nice.”

            And then her eyes rolled back, her bones shifting and lengthening as her skin blossomed into a brilliant red, and two brilliant, terrifying horns burst from her head.

            Valkyrie’s eyes widened, and Skulduggery’s face – she couldn’t think of a word for it. It was like it glitched, right in front of their eyes. They were shocked.

            “ _Move_ ,” she said, and at last they put their hands up and took a few steps away.

            “What _are_ you?” Valkyrie breathed, and even underneath the rage Amber felt a tiny sliver of pride at the awe in her voice.

            “A demon,” she said. “So is Milo. So are those people in the car who will kill _everyone_ present, so you better get to running.”

            “I don’t run from anything,” said Skulduggery, taking out his gun and loading it. “Well, I do, but not until I’ve given it a good look-over.”

            “We go _now_ ,” Milo said, sprinting around to the driver’s side, but before he could even open the door Kirsty’s car came screeching into the parking lot, blocking the exit. Grant jumped out, already red skinned and terrifying before the car had even come to a complete stop.

            “Shit,” Amber said. “ _Shit_.” Her parents, at least, were nowhere to be seen. She wondered if they were alive. She hoped they were, and she didn’t know if it was because she didn’t want them to die or wanted to kill them herself.

            “I see you’ve made some friends,” Grant said brightly as his feet hit the ground. He was as unnervingly charming as he had always been, grinning with too sharp teeth.      “Excellent. Are these the people you were looking for, Irving?”

            A man got out from the back of the car – a man Amber had never seen before, but Valkyrie and Skulduggery tensed as soon as they caught sight of him.

            “Yes they are,” said the man. He was short, with little coke bottle glasses, and looked extremely nervous.

            “Well,” said Grant triumphantly. “Didn’t that work out well!”

            Milo stood, aiming his gun at Grant’s head. Amber was suddenly very glad they had stopped for him to put in his contacts.

            “I think you remember what happened the last time you encountered us, Mr. Van der Valk,” Milo said.

            Grant’s hand fluttered to his torso, but he didn’t budge. “I do. That’s why our friend brought us a welcome gift.”

            Kirsty came out of the car, hefting a heavy looking object – it was vaguely shaped like a gun, with strange symbols on the side. She heard Valkyrie take a sharp breath.

            “Apparently,” Kirsty said, “according to our other-worldly friend here, this little beauty will knock someone out for six hours in one hit. Won’t wake up for whatever reason. Convenient, and definitely enough time to get both of you gift-wrapped and ready for the Shining Demon.”

            Amber took a step back. Punching, kicking, scratching, general mutilation – that’s what she expected from her parents and their friends. But _magic guns?_ What the hell was going on? Her world, for the second time in as many months, was suddenly getting much, much bigger, and it wasn’t a pleasant feeling.

            Kirsty laughed. “I can’t believe how easy it was to find you. Your new friends here turn quite a few heads, don’t they? And now you’re going to have more innocent people killed. Wonderful job, dear.”

            “I am offended that you think I’m innocent,” Skulduggery responded. “And who might you be?”

            Kirsty waved a clawed hand. “Old friends of her parents.”

            “And you’re trying to ... what, kill your friend’s daughter?” Valkyrie asked.

            “No,” Grant said. “They already tried that. She ran off before we could eat her. Twice.”

            The only sound was the rain, punctuated by the sound of distant chirping bugs.

            “That,” Valkyrie said, “is _fucked up_.”

            “You’re telling me,” Amber muttered.

            “And who are you?” Grant asked. “Mr. Not so Innocent?”

            Skulduggery reached under his shirt collar, and grinned. “Someone you will have difficulty eating.”

            And then his face melted off, revealing a skull underneath, grinning even wider.

            Amber felt slightly one-upped.

            Kirsty and Grant, somehow, were not too surprised. “Ah, yes, Irving told us all about you, and your _darling_ child bride too,” said Kirsty. “But we’ll be glad to get you off his hands and kill you alongside dearest Milo and Amber.”

            “Or,” said Skulduggery, “we could skip all that.”

            And suddenly the rain _stopped._

It was like the world had frozen in that exact moment  – every drop of rain just hanging in the air, not moving. Amber twitched her fingers at her side, as if to test that she still could. And just as she did that – the raindrops all gathered together in the air, and she turned to see Skulduggery moving his gloved hands like a conductor until it came together as a giant wave that slammed straight into Kirsty, Grant, and Irving.

            Before she could even _comprehend_ this, Valkyrie’s turn was up, and she sent a bolt of white lightning at the three. It hit the short man dead on, but Kirsty and Grant managed to dodge, and they were coming straight at them, soaking wet and furious.

            Suddenly Amber was ducking, desperately dodging as Kirsty swung at her. She tried to keep an eye on Milo but couldn’t, and all her efforts got her was a punch right in the nose. Jesus, she was out of practice. Her nose exploded with blood, and she dropped, rolled beneath the Charger to catch her breath, and heard Kirsty explode with rage.

            Under the temporary safety of the car Amber watched as Valkyrie and Skulduggery stalked over to Irving. They checked if he was unconscious, and Amber –

            Amber felt herself being dragged by the ankles. She tried to kick back but couldn’t, and _shit_ , she sure hoped Milo was actually going to shift this time because if not they were fucked –

            And then suddenly she felt heat rippling across the air, right by her legs, and Kirsty was screaming and dropping her.

            She looked up, and Skulduggery was aiming fireballs ( _fireballs!)_ at Kirsty. She sat, unable to comprehend _anything,_ and Skulduggery caught her staring and tipped his hat at her, like he was an old fashioned gentleman instead of a weird freaky skeleton thing.

            Before she could give him any kind of acknowledgement he was off, returning to Valkyrie’s side. Amber gave Kirsty a quick glance, saw she was still on fire, and resisted the urge to kick her in the face.

            She spun around in the pouring rain, looking for Milo in the dark, before spotting him and Grant next to the Charger.

            Milo was still his regular old self – and there was a layer of disappointment she felt that she couldn’t really dissect right now – but he had Grant pinned and was digging his thumb into the wounds he had inflicted with his talons last time, still raw and puffy. His gun was about a foot away, and she saw both men struggling to recover it.

            Amber spun around, looking for the magic freaks. Valkyrie was looking for something, one hand lit up to act as a light source, the other arm pressed against her torso. Suddenly Amber spotted the gun-thing across the parking lot, right where –

            Right where Irving calmly picked it up off the ground, aimed it steadily at Skulduggery, and fired.

            Valkyrie screamed as her best friend dropped to the ground, and the sound of it, the horrible, almost inhuman quality to it, shook Amber to her core. She stood there, useless and stunned, when she felt someone slam into her. Kirsty grabbed her around the waist and slammed her into the ground, and Amber couldn’t see anything but she could _feel_ the heat rippling off of Kirsty's body from the burns. Her head hurt like hell and she could feel Kirsty putting all of her strength into pushing her down, into pulling her arm back like she was going to rip it clean off, and Amber was dragging her claws down Kirsty’s arm, desperate to try to get her to stop –

            And then there was the echoing sound of another gunshot.

            Suddenly everything stopped. Kirsty stood, stepping down on Amber’s arm, the other foot on her back and Amber was barely able to turn her head enough to see that Milo had his gun and had it against Grant’s forehead, ready to aim again. Grant’s leg was already gushing blood.

            “Don’t you _dare_ ,” Kirsty yelled shrilly. “I will _tear her to shreds in front of you._ ”

            Milo’s hand didn’t move, but he didn’t fire either. Amber couldn’t see Valkyrie, but assumed she was getting the hell out of there. _Great for her_ , she thought, and then applauded herself for managing to be sarcastic while being stepped on.

            “Stop!” cried Irving. “All of you, just – just take a timeout, for _one second_!”

            She saw Milo turn to face him.

            “ _Shoot them_ ,” Kirsty said.

            “I can’t,” he said, and Amber realized he had an English accent. “It won’t recharge for another few hours.”

            Kirsty let out a scream of frustration, and he waited until she was done before continuing. “… Look. I don’t want your husband to get shot, this guy with the gun doesn’t want you to rip that girl apart, so … let’s just _go._ Skulduggery here is enough of an oddity that your demon friend would be happy to take him and then everybody lives. Except Skulduggery. But he’s already dead. So.”

            “You’re not going _anywhere_ with him,” Valkyrie snarled.

            Amber heard Irving sigh. “Look at yourself, Valkyrie. You can barely move. You’re not Darquesse anymore. You don’t get to call the shots.”

            Valkyrie was silent, and something about the fact she had no come back almost disturbed Amber more than the scream.

            She heard the sound of Irving struggling to pick up something off the ground – she assumed it was Skulduggery – and his voice grow desperate.

            “Please. The four of you, you ... demon types, whatever, just … be rational. This is not a battle you need to fight.”

            There was a long, considerate pause, and Kirsty removed her foot from Amber’s back. “Fine," she growled. "We’ll let Bill and Betty pick the brat up later. But we need to get off the Shining Demon’s hit list as soon as we can.” She stomped her foot down hard on Amber’s arm and she writhed in pain, and then the older woman hopped off her and walked away.

            Milo looked at Amber, and she – she didn’t know what to do. She realized that at some point in the last few minutes she had shifted back, and now everything ached. She wasn’t sure what her face looked like right now and she was in too much pain to nod or shake her head, but Milo apparently saw _something_ in her expression, and he removed his gun from Grant’s head and released him.

            He stumbled back to his wife, and they limped together back to the car while Irving loaded Skulduggery into the backseat. He looked so limp. Amber kept expecting one of his arms to fall off and clatter onto the ground. They hauled themselves in, and as she settled into the driver’s seat Kirsty caught her eye and smiled.

            And then they drove off and away from the little inn that had been so calm just ten minutes before.

            Milo helped Amber back onto her feet. Her shirt was torn at the shoulder, and she was sore and cold and wet. She could barely even assess the damage – she felt bruised all over, and while she didn’t think her arm was broken, she knew that there was _something_ wrong with it. She limped past Milo and sat back down again, her back resting against the Charger door. She sneezed, the rain soaking her down to her sore bones. For a fleeting moment, she wished the Charger could heal her like it did Milo – she saw a short but deep cut on his cheek, blood streaking down his jaw, and wondered what it felt like to know those kinds of wounds would be gone within a few hours. Wondered if he felt like it was worth it.

            He handed her the hoodie, which was pretty useless as it was now _also_ soaking wet and ripped, but she supposed it was a nice gesture nonetheless. The Charger’s headlights flickered to life on their own, illuminating the entrance to the inn.

            Valkyrie was kneeling on the ground, her hands clutched tight around her torso. Amber blinked, and she grimaced and shook her head.

            “Old injury,” she explained. “Irving managed to get a half decent hit in and it’s ripping me in two all over again. I’ll be fine.” She sucked in a sharp breath and stood, shakily, in the center of the parking lot. Amber almost wanted to step forward and steady her, but she felt like any attempt would be like a chihuahua trying to steady a horse.

            “Alright,” Valkyrie said after a few moments, brushing her hands off on the knees of her pants. “Where are they going, what exactly are they going to do, and how long until they try this sacrifice thing?”

            “You’re going after him?” Amber asked, her throat feeling raw. “After all of that?”

            Valkyrie looked at her like she was stupid. “Of course.”

            Milo looked at her. “Your friend is dead. Worse than dead. You’ll be wasting your time and your life.”

            Amber frowned. “You don’t have to be so…” she trailed off, looking for the right word, but Milo shook his head.

            “It’s the truth. This isn’t your world, Valkyrie. Your best bet is just getting home and forgetting about this.”

            She narrowed her eyes. “First of all, that jackass is my one and only ticket home, so that’s not going to work. Secondly? I would never leave Skulduggery behind.  I’ve been busting my ass while saving him longer than you’ve even been alive,” she said, pointing at Amber. “And I was even younger than you when I ran into a world inhabited by creepy monster Gods just to get him home _._  I’m never losing him again. Especially to someone with a stupid ass last name like _Van Der Valk_. I don’t care if I’m going to have to walk into hell and punch Satan himself in the face, _I’m bringing him back.”_

            Milo and Amber were both stunned. Amber wondered what it was like, to have someone who loved you that much. She wondered if she would ever know what that felt like, or if she’d die as unloved as she had been the day she was born. But then again - she didn’t even think most normal people experienced a bond quite on that level.

            Valkyrie exhaled slowly and appraised the both of them. “Not my best speech, but I’m cranky and sopping wet and tired. Now what?”

            Milo raised an eyebrow. “So you expect us to come with you?”

            “I didn’t say that.”

            “You’ve implied it. You could have let them kill us. But you didn’t.”

            “No,” she said, “because despite the horns and the creepy car and the weird backstories I think you’re both good people. Better people than me, even. But you don’t strike me as the type who’s manipulated into doing anything, Mr. Sebastian.”

            “You’d be correct there,” Milo said, and Amber realized that this was the first time he had given Valkyrie more than a passing glance of his attention. Probably not the attention Valkyrie had been looking for.

            “Why did you and Skulduggery attack Kirsty and Grant?” Amber asked in a small voice, and Valkyrie glanced at her like she had forgotten she was there.

            She gave her a look like the answer was obvious. “The enemy of my enemy is my friend, so my enemy is your enemy’s friend and therefore, you’re _my_ friend. ... Or. Something. Also, Jesus, did your parents really try to eat you?”

            She gave a tiny nod.

            Valkyrie whistled. “That’s… That’s really rough.” She sighed. “Well, looks like I don’t have much time to waste.  I wish you both the best of luck with the… demons trying to kill you thing, or whatever.”

            And with that, she turned and walked on to the road.

            Amber watched her go, and then swallowed and looked back at Milo.

            “I know what you’re going to say,” he said.              

            “We can’t just let her go _alone_ ,” Amber said, her forehead crumpling. “She has no idea about demons, or how anything here works, and Kirsty and Grant will kill her if they see her again – and okay, yeah, Skulduggery is weird and scary but he actually saved me so he has to be a good guy, and, I mean – he’s a skeleton. That has to be some sort of endangered species kinda thing. Or maybe it’s common where they’re from. I don’t know.” She was Glen level rambling. Jesus. “I just – I _know_ you don’t want to hear this, and I _know_ it’s a bad idea and we should only look out for ourselves, but ... but … we have to help her.”

            “I know,” said Milo. “That’s why I said I knew what you were going to say. I agree, we should help her.”

            Her eyes widened. “Then why did you let me talk for so long?”

            “I was hoping you would come up with a reason that wasn’t stupid or dangerous that would make me feel like this _wasn’t_ a terrible mistake.”

            “Did I?”

            “Not so much.”

            “Figures.” She sucked in a deep breath, cupping her hands around her mouth, and yelled “ _Valkyrie_!”

            She spun around, her face lit up by the lightning dancing up her arms. Amber couldn’t tell if she was relieved or unsurprised. Valkyrie sprinted back towards them, the rain pouring off in sheets down her shoulders and back.

            “Alright,” she said as she slowed, pulling her staff from the sheath on her back and spinning it. “Let’s hunt down some demons.”

            “I could do without the showing off,” Milo said, at a volume only Amber could hear.

            “Shut up,” Amber whispered back. “It looked cool.”


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Looks like this will be the last, as I've lost all motivation/didn't like Desolation/blabla. But I've had 3k words sitting around on my hard drive for months, so ... figured I might as well upload them.

         Valkyrie was very fidgety when she was impatient. Or maybe she was _always_ fidgety, and it took constraining her in a small space for Amber to notice.

Valkyrie had taken the back seat, letting Amber sit shotgun this time, and every time the younger girl glanced in the rearview mirror, she was pushing her hair behind or over her ear or tapping out a pattern on her knee.

        “Have you figured exactly out where we’re going?” Valkyrie asked again, the words blurting out of her mouth. Amber assumed this was the grown up version of _are we there yet?_

“No,” Milo said. “Washington isn’t exactly known for demonic locations.”

        “Aside from Forks,” Amber muttered, but her sick burn was lost on both of them.

        “I don’t think they’re going to sacrifice your friend yet,” Milo continued. “They’ll need to find and summon a representative willing to negotiate instead of immediately turning them in.”

        “Also,” Amber piped up, “They’re going to have to wait until he wakes up, aren’t they? A skeleton in a suit isn’t exactly impressive until it moves around and talks.”

        “Good point,” said Milo. “So we’ve got a couple hours, at least.”

        Valkyrie relaxed slightly, but her hands wound tight around her staff, laid across her lap. “So how exactly do you find these spooky places? Is there a phonebook or something? Ouija board, maybe?”

        Milo pressed his lips together. “I have …  a source, who might be able to help.”

        Amber paled. “This isn’t another Edgar, is it? Because that did not exactly end well.”

        “No,” Milo said, signaling to turn into a CVS. “This one’s more trustworthy. Barely,” he said, “but … enough.”

        “Was that trying to be reassuring?” Valkyrie asked, glancing at Amber’s concerned face. “Because I don’t think it worked.”

        Milo shrugged a shoulder.

        The CVS was a lot busier than the Gas Station they had been at only a few hours ago - (Amber couldn’t believe it was still the same night) despite it being so late. Milo started to walk towards the payphone on the other side of the building, then paused, turning around to face them.

        “No shifting,” he told Amber sternly. “… And no magic,” he added, looking at Valkyrie.

        “Is that a challenge?” she responded. Milo’s mouth tensed.

        “We can’t afford any more incidents. … But if anything happens –“

        “Yeah, yeah. She’s safe with me,” Valkyrie said. “Go make your phone call.”

        “I’m holding you to that.”

        “I know.” Valkyrie saluted him, and he frowned and walked away without another word. Amber would be irritated with the idea of being assigned a babysitter, but she had a feeling the assignment was less to do with thinking that Amber needed protection and more to do with not trusting Valkyrie. After all, the Irish girl was a complete stranger who had already lost _everything._ She was risky at best.

        And at worst … Well, the potential outcomes were still running through Amber’s mind.

        Despite that, Amber felt that she _could_ be trusted ... at least as long as they all were working together towards the same goal. After that … well, hopefully after that she and Skulduggery would be back to wherever they came from.

        The girls walked through the aisles of the pharmacy-store, and Amber waited until they were alone until she spoke.

        “Were you in the army?”

        “Huh? No.”

        Amber blinked. “But the salute…”

        “Oh. Old habit,” Valkyrie said. “But not the army.”

        “No?”

        “Nope,” Valkyrie echoed, and Amber realized she wasn’t going to elaborate. Or make small talk. She watched as Valkyrie picked up a bottle of sunscreen, examining the label.

        Amber rubbed her arm, feeling awkward. Some people had given her a few weird looks walking in, as she was still soaking wet and in ripped, dirty clothes (not to mention she was pretty sure she hadn’t done a great job scrubbing the blood from her face), but they had pretty much forgotten her as soon as they saw Valkyrie in all her superhero glory. At least she was helpful in that aspect.

        “What did you mean by technically?” Amber asked, trying to make her tone light. “Did you fight in a war?”

        Valkyrie’s smile was thin. “A few, actually.”

        Amber’s jaw dropped. “You’re not actually eighteen, are you?”

        Valkyrie smiled, almost a real one this time. “Nope.”

        “How old are you? Are you – wait, are you like, hundreds of years old?” Amber asked, her voice a frantic whisper.

        “Never gonna tell,” Valkyrie said, placing the sunscreen back on the shelf.

        Amber put a hand against the shelf to steady herself. Jesus, if Valkyrie was actually like eight hundred years older than Milo she was going to have to seriously reevaluate the whole ogling thing.

        “You were weirded out by the calendar in the inn,” Amber remembered. “Are you a …” she paused, dropping her voice to the faintest of whispers. “A time traveler?” She could hear a bit of excitement creeping into her voice, despite herself.

        Valkyrie pressed her lips together. “… Technically?”

        Amber’s head swam. “So you’re from-”

        “Not that far into the future,” she said quickly. “Like, barely the future. But … well, my phone would probably blow your mind, at least.”

        Amber blinked. “Can I see it?”

        “…Probably shouldn’t. Also, now that I think about it, I am from a completely different dimension so … who knows what’s even going to be invented here.”

        Amber was still trying to catch up to the ‘possibly hundreds of years old thing’. “Different _dimension_?”

        “It’s a long story,” Valkyrie said, walking to the back wall where they kept refrigerated drinks. She picked out one of those fancy fruit sodas, and Amber got a coke and one of those giant iced teas and cradled them both in her arms.

        “For now you’re better off being left in the dark.” Valkyrie said, and Amber wondered if she was being _unintentionally_ condescending. “I am growing increasingly interested in _your_ backstory, though. So your parents are demons? Is that a genetic thing?”

        “No,” Amber said, immediately, and then she chewed on her lip. “Well… yes, technically? But they weren’t _born_ demons, though I was – sorta – like – it was in my DNA… or … actually, I don’t even know if it was carried genetically…”

        Valkyrie laughed. “Sorry. Didn’t mean for you to strain yourself.:”

        Amber flushed. “It’s hard to explain, that’s all.”

        “I got that. What about Milo? Are all of his demons internal?”

        Amber eyes flickered around them as they entered a line for the register, seeing if anyone was paying attention to them. “No, he’s got a demon form too. He just doesn’t like using it.”

        “Why not?”

        Amber shrugged. “I think he’s just a stick in the mud. He doesn’t like me shifting either, even if that’s none of his beeswax.”

        Valkyrie made a face. “What, he doesn’t like you being able to defend yourself?”

        Amber resisted a weird urge to laugh. “No, it’s not like that – hi, yeah, just these-” she said to the bored teenager at the register while she and Valkyrie put their stuff down. “He probably wishes I could fight like _you._ Would make keeping me alive much easier.”

        “I’m sure he’s fine with you the way you are.”

        Amber guffawed, startling Valkyrie. But the idea of _anyone_ liking her the way she was was hilarious.

        The employee shot her a look, so she shut up, handing him the cash and receiving her change in silence. She waited until they were walking out before continuing the conversation, even though Valkyrie seemed distracted.

        “He just – he seems to think I’m even dumber than usual like that – even though, like you said, I can actually fight then – and tries to tell me that I’m getting too dependent on it or whatever.”

        This caught Valkyrie’s attention. “ _Are_ you dependent on it?” She seemed, to Amber’s surprise, actually concerned. Like, _extremely_ concerned.

        “O-of course not,” Amber said, forcing another laugh. She didn’t like the look that Valkyrie was given her, didn’t like the feeling of being cross-examined. It reminded her of Betty’s interrogation the night she first shifted. She shuddered. But for whatever reason, Valkyrie didn’t speak up again – and they spent a few moments in silence as they waited outside the store.

        “Hope Milo’s source is worth the wait,” Amber said, crossing her arms to warm herself against the chill hitting her damp hoodie.     

        “Why didn’t he use the pay phone up front? It’s not like there’s a lot of people waiting out here.”

        Amber didn’t know, but was sure Milo – as always – had his reasons for being mysterious that he was never ever going to explain. Unless he was consulting with someone closer by. She imagined him in the Charger, turning the volume knob up ever so slightly. A small shiver raced down her back.

        But no – she could see the Charger in the barely lit parking lot. Alone. Alone and waiting.

        Whatever friendliness had come over Valkyrie while shopping had dropped with the temperature, and she stood, her arms crossed, staring out into the night. She was glowering off into the darkness, like the power of her glare alone would bring her friend back.

        Even though she was aware she probably shouldn’t talk – that Valkyrie probably really didn’t want to talk – she found herself blabbing away anyways.

        “I wish I was more like you. Actually, I’m kinda jealous,” she said, with a fake little laugh, and Valkyrie looked at her, dark eyes skeptical.

        “I mean,” Amber backtracked, squirming under her gaze. “You’re perfectly capable of kicking butt and working alone, but you still have someone who cares about you. Someone who will always have your back.”

        “Don’t you?” Valkyrie said, pointing her thumb towards the back.

        “For _now._ Not forever. Not for much longer, even.”

        Valkyrie looked at her, liked she wanted to say something reassuring and comforting but didn’t quite have the energy or warmth for it.

        “That sucks,” she said, at last.

        “Yup.”

        A few seconds later, Milo walked around the corner, and Amber almost sagged with relief. He may have been grumpy and quiet, but at least his silence never felt hostile.

        “There’s an abandoned mental hospital about two hours away,” Milo said. “Local legend says it's known for ghosts and gangs.”

        “Are there ghost and gangs?” Amber asked.

        “No,” Milo said. “Just a lot of supernatural activity. Apparently an excellent location for demonic sacrifices.”

        “Oh, good,” Amber said, weakly. “Maybe we’ll be lucky and get demons _and_ ghosts _.”_

        “They don’t exist,” Milo said, which Amber found deeply ironic for someone who was _literally_ called the Ghost of the Highway, but she held her tongue.

        “Well,” Valkyrie said. “I’d hate to keep any sort of demonic activity waiting, so ... shall we?”

        They clamored back into the Charger, Amber keeping her bag from the gas station between her feet. She was worried about the amount of driving Milo was doing, but speed was essential and she admittedly drove like an old lady.

        “What time is it?” Valkyrie asked.

        “2:31 am,” Amber said. “Pacific.”

        There was a pause, like Valkyrie was calculating the time difference in her head, and then she blinked hard. “I’ve been up for 38 hours straight.”

        Amber didn’t think she had ever been awake for longer than maybe 16, 17 hours. She liked naps. “Um,” she said. “Maybe you should … not, do that.”

        Valkyrie made a tired noise in agreement. “Wake me up the moment anything happens.”

        “Of course.”

        She watched in the mirror as she curled up on the back seat, arm curled around the staff like it was a teddy bear. It couldn’t have been comfortable, and it wasn’t like she was going to have to fight someone from within the car. But whatever. _You do you_ , Amber thought.

        A few moments passed, and Valkyrie’s breathing slowly lulled into the doldrums of sleep. Amber leaned back in her seat. Maybe she _would_ take a nap. It wasn’t exactly like Milo was going to get chatty all of a sudden –

        “What exactly did you mean, ‘not for much longer’?” he asked, voice cool.

        … Or not.

        “What?”

        “When you were talking to her outside,” he continued, keeping his eyes strictly on the dark road. “You said I wouldn’t be around for much longer. What did you mean?”

        Amber faltered, tongue-tied. She tried to think of an out – a cool and neutral way to say what she meant, but everything she ran through her head felt messy with emotions. She was scared about the depleting funds, and angry that he was bringing it up forcing her to confront it, and … and she still couldn’t quite put a word to how she felt about being alone.

        “I just meant-” she started, but Milo cut her off – which was somehow more startling than his suddenly angry tone.

        “Running off on your own is stupid if not downright _suicidal_. I don’t care if you’re sick of me, this isn’t something that you can do alone.”

        Amber glared straight ahead out the window. “Obviously. But it’s not like I have a choice.”

        He scoffed. “I know I wasn’t exactly your first choice when Imelda left you with me, but it’s not like you have anyone else-”

        “I know that! Of course I know that! But you’ll leave, and then there’s no one else left, so I…” she forced herself to lower her voice, remembering Valkyrie in the back. “I’m just preparing for the worst.”

        He didn’t respond, didn’t look at her.

“Look,” she said, now actively fighting tears and _hating_ herself for it. “People want me dead and you’re the _only_ person who doesn’t and it’s solely so you can get your paycheck at the end of each week, and I’ve just been – well, what the fuck am I going to do when those paychecks end?”

        She felt the rumbling engine slowly quiet, like the Charger was holding its breath. Milo’s eyes remained on the road.

        She took a deep breath, swallowed, and swallowed again, until she felt confident that her voice wouldn’t catch. “I’m not going to ask you to keep doing this once your part of the deal is over. That’s not fair to you.”

        Silence.

        The car had grown so quiet that all she could hear was Valkyrie’s steady breathing as she slept, still sound asleep.

        Amber turned, resting her head against the steady window. _Don’t cry. Don’t cry you stupid baby, act like an adult for once in your life-_

        “I’ll take an IOU,” Milo said, at last.

        “W-what?”

        “An I-owe-you. If we both survive this mess you can pay me back when you’re an attorney or… something.”

        Oh God, now she really was in danger of crying. “Yeah?” she said, not sure if it was an affirmation or a request.

        “Yeah.”

        She wiped her eyes as subtly as she could. “Thank you,” she said at last, and he gave the slightest nod.

        “An … an attorney? You really think I could do that?”

        He shrugged a shoulder. “I could see you defending kids from their terrible parents.”

        Her lips almost tongued into a smile. “Yeah. That’d be cool. I don’t think dropping out of high school is the best start for a law career, though.”

        “You’ll be fine,” he said, sounding like he meant it. “You’re smart.”

        “You really think so?” She felt herself start to cry again. Great.

        “… Not street smart,” Milo said. “But, you know.”

        He glanced at her and then immediately noticed the tears running down her cheeks and froze, looking terrified at the thought of dealing with a crying teenage girl.

        She made a big show of wiping her eyes. “Um. Let’s change the subject.”

        He grunted an affirmative, though he would have probably preferred no conversation, but she wasn’t sure if she could keep in the waterworks if she didn’t distract herself..

        She glanced over her shoulder, making sure their new partner in crime was still asleep. “So,” she said, keeping her voice to a conspiratorial whisper. “ _So_. You think they’re _involved?_ “

        “… Who?” Milo asked, not sounding particularly interested.

        “Valkyrie and Skulduggery. You know. With all the touching and soulful gazing and… stuff. You haven’t even thought about it?”

        “…Obviously not.”

        She turned to stare at him. “What, you’re not even remotely curious how these two know each other? What their _history_ is?”

        “Nope.”

        “But she’s a – she’s a normal girl, and he’s like … a skeleton-monster thing, and yet they treat each other like they’re two halves of one soul! That’s … fascinating! It’s like, like, some sort of …” she trailed off. “I don’t know. But it’s definitely on the level of some of the _best_ ships.”

        “Wait, what does this have to do with boats?”

        Amber’s brow creased. “Not boats, s _hips_.”

        “… What?”

        “Ships. Relationships. Shipping? … Do you really not know?”

        Milo looked annoyed. “Clearly I don’t.”

        “Jesus, you _are_ old,” Amber muttered, and he shot her a surprisingly hurt look. “C’mon, have you not been on the internet in the past 12 years? _Shipping._ Supporting a fictional couple. Hoping they kiss and stuff. It’s _everything._ ”

        “But they…” Milo shook his head, slowly. “Amber. She is literally sleeping in the backseat. How is she _fictional?_ ”

        She fidgeted, annoyed. “It’s _usually_ fictional. But not always. Sometimes it involves actors and stuff.”

        “… Okay.”

        “I don’t usually get into that,” she said, ignoring his tone. “But everyone knows that Tempest and Azrael’s actors are _totally_ dating _irl_ and I used to spend hours looking at set photos on the forums.”

        “Are you even speaking English?” Milo asked, and she glared at him.

        “Shut up. Shipping is a stress reliever, okay? And like, at least we’re not like the One Direction fandom with their weird AUs and fics and-”

        “…Hold on,” came a very sleepy voice from the back. “Are you talking about real person fic?”

        “No?” said Amber, as Milo answered with, “Apparently.”

        “…That’s … cool,” said Valkyrie. “… Didn’t think that’s what demons talked about, but. Uh. Alright.”

        The car ride was rather quiet after that.

        But the silence wasn’t as unpleasant as Amber feared.


End file.
